There are deep mysteries for me in the lifelong pursuit of knowledge. Why should people in their 80s feel regret about the million things they do not know? Why should I keep reading research papers, books and magazines when the more I study, the more I realize how much I'll never know?

It seems unfair that most of us can only retain a fraction of what we "learn." To make that matter worse, our brain insists on locking in crazy stuff we don't care about. Example: From high school biology, I can instantly rattle off the salivary glands, but spend an hour getting the name of the well-stacked girl who sat next to me.

"Hey, George!" Live with it!

Had an interesting Glacier Park adventure last week. Coming back to Apgar after a cruise over Camas Road, I spotted a man with a camera at the upstream side of the bridge over McDonald Creek. Figuring he could be a visitor looking for a photo op, I stopped and told him there was an active beaver lodge just below the bridge and sometimes you see one of those critters down there.

He said his name was Steve Gniadek and he knew about that. Of course he knew about it. He's a retired veteran Glacier biologist, and I realized that when I got a better look at him. We began talking over old times and mutual interests.

Suddenly a large raven landed on the road near the bridge and started pecking on something. Steve said, "He's found a dead snake." We both aimed our cameras because this was an unusual opportunity, especially with sun glinting on his shiny black feathers emitting a brilliant phosphorescent glow, the "shot of the day."

The raven paused in his cursory examination of the dead snake and hopped a couple of yards to roadside grass to come up with a wriggling live one clamped in his beak. It was hard to keep a camera on him because he kept moving. I figured he'd just fly away to his nest, but no. He zoomed back and grabbed the dead one, too. Then, perhaps realizing he was "on camera," or to adjust the load, flew up on the bridge railing post with the two garter snakes he'd caught. Steve and I had time for unusual photos before the raven was gone, back to feed his family.

My rig was a heavy Nikon film camera with a 300 mm zoom lens, but I noticed Steve was shooting a digital about the size of my fist. Asked him if he had any telephoto power in the little lens and he said about 800. Couldn't believe it. He offered me a look. Wow! It seemed like he could have gotten that shot if the raven was a mile away.

"Well I'll be darned," I thought, and the camera was light as a feather. The frustrating thing for me is that I was just starting on an expensive 36-exposure roll of film so couldn't send it away for processing until heavens knows when? Steve just calmly pressed a button and studied his picture right there.

Decided a serious discussion with "First Wife" Iris was in order. "Do you think older people should give up their few thousand dollars worth of film cameras and accessories and go digital?" Started a list to help her make the right decision. (1) My cameras are really heavy to pack around, even if I don't climb big mountains anymore. Steve Gniadek's light little camera can take shots of animals twice as far away as I can with my largest 400 mm lens. (2) I could go back to college and learn how to make prints and DVDs on our computer. (3) We can donate the old film equipment to the Central School Museum and write it off on our income taxes. (4) ...

Alas! Have given up the idea of talking to Iris about a digital camera. She just went back upstairs from my den after coming down and initiating a discussion about, "Maybe we could consider going into our savings ... to get you hearing aids."

G. George Ostrom is a national award-winning Hungry Horse News columnist. He lives in Kalispell.